Happily Ever After
by wickedlygreen2
Summary: An original spinoff spotlighting the Blind Witch (aka Violet aka Ginger Butler). Find out about who she was and how she became the Blind Witch, while also following a hidden and unexpected love story that will keep you begging for more
1. Chapter 1

_/ The young maiden held the child warmly in her arms, as if her arms were an impenetrable shield of love and care. The two of them had formed an unbreakable bond and an unlikely friendship._

_'I promise to always protect you,' the maiden whispered in the girl's ear._

_The child giggled softly, cuddling more into her arms. The maiden close her eyes with a sweet smile, kissed the girl's head, and rocked side to side, hoping to lull the girl to sleep. \\_

Ginger frantically went back and forth between checking the pies in the oven, stirring the batter for potential brownies, frosting a cake, rolling the dough for gingerbread cookies, AND checking to see if the water was boiling so she could put the potatoes in!

Henry smirked watching her. He silently walked in and touched her shoulder making her jump in surprise. She looked at him, letting out a sigh, and placed a hand on her ever beating heart. "Henry, don't do that, especially near an open oven and hot stove," she kindly scolded.

"Sorry Ginger, but you really shouldn't overwork yourself. Don't you ever take a break?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" She raised her brow.

"You know what I mean," he smirked. "What do you do besides cook?"

Ginger blinked. What DID she do? It never occurred to her before. "Umm...lots of things."

The boy smiled knowingly, and even tilted his head for emphasis. "Like what?"

Her lip twitched, and her cheeks were growing really rosy. "...Things."

"Riiiight," he grinned, hoisting his backpack securely over his shoulder, heading upstairs.

Ginger stood there puzzling. SHe tried to think. There had to have been something she did besides cook. Let's see...eat...breath...blink...sleep...dream...well, it was a start, but that wasn't what Henry meant. He was referring to a word that was basically a foreign dish which nobody liked: 'Fun.'

She sighed, then gasped: The pies were burning!

_/ 'Sorry, my Queen,' the maiden-chef said, waving away the smokescreen coming from the oven._

_'Clumsy vermin,' the Queen snapped, 'don't let it happen again or it _will_ mean your head!'_

_The ginger-haired maid lowered her head. 'Yes'm, I understand.'_

_The door slammed with a vengeance. _

_The girl knelt to the floor, picking up the charcoal remains of what used to be an apple pie. _

_'Vi,' came a still, small voice._

_It was the child; knowing that brought a smile to her face. 'Hello little one,'_

_'Vi, I'm sorry for the way my mom acted,' she said, wrapping her arms around the woman's neck._

_'Oh, sweetie, you don't have to be sorry.'_

_'But I do.'_

_'Shhh, dear. It's fine. I can handle whatever your mother dishes out,' Violet reassured._

_'But Vi, all mother is going to do is work you to death, or find a reason to cut off your head.' The girl grasped Violet's shoulders, looking at her seriously. 'Vi, you've gota chance to do something with your life. Have fun for once. You can do something other than cook.'_

_Violet stroked the girl's cheek with the back of her hand as gently as a feather. 'Honey, I have fun when I cook.'_

_'But you could do so much more.'_

_'Little one, my place is here with you. I'm not _just_ the cook, I'm your protector; your caretaker; your best friend. I will never leave you.' \\_


	2. Chapter 2

"Where's Henry?" came the strict, firm voice of Madame Mayor.

"He's up in his room, Madame," replied Ginger, putting on the finishing touches of an apple-turnover she prepared.

"Good," she said sternly, setting her purse down, heading upstairs.

She knocked on the door softly. "Henry," she said sweetly, "may I come in?"

"Yeah Mom," he said, finishing up a sentence on his paper for school.

She crept in with a smile, kneeling down beside him. "Whatcha writing?"

"Just something for school," he said simply.

"Well, what is it? Be more specific, Henry."

"An essay on an important person in my life."

Her ruby-red lips spread happily in a grin. "And just who is your subject?" she asked expectantly.

"My birth mother."

Her splendid smile faded. "What?"

"My birth mother," he repeated.

"But…you don't know who she is."

He shrugged. "I don't care. I know she's out there somewhere."

"Henry, the topic is on an important person _in_ your life. Your birth mother isn't _in_ your life," she turned him to her, grasping his shoulders, "but I am. Don't you think it'd make more sense to write about me?" She searched his eyes worriedly. There was no response from him though. She brought her hands back with a sigh. "Y-you better get back to work then," she said with a hint of disappointment as she stood. She went to the door, then added, "Dinner will be ready soon…Henry."

"Okay Mom," he said, returning to his paper.

Ginger finally found some free time for herself as she waited for the roast to well…roast.

"Ginger!" called Madame Mayor.

She rose up at attention. "Yes, Madame Mayor?"

"Get over here!"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Do you think….do you think I'm a good mother?"

"Why, of course I do. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Because Henry….I don't think Henry loves me."

"Nonsense! Henry adores you."

"He sure doesn't act like it."

"Madame Mayor, Henry really, really loves you, but you've got to remember, he's adopted. It's normal for an adopted child to wonder about their birth parents."

"But _I'm _his mother! _I_ took him in when that woman gave him up! _I've _been there for him to wipe _every_ tear, to kiss _every_ cut and bruise, to endure _every_ tantrum! I had to do that all by myself. But even after all that, he hasn't returned any of it. For eight years I haven't been shown half of the love I've given to him," her voice became strained. "Do you know how that feels….to show so much love to one person and….never get it in return?"

_/ 'Mom, I made dinner for you!' exclaimed the little child to her mother._

_ The stern-faced woman looked at the food with disgust. Her nose wrinkled, her lip curled unpleasantly. 'Child,' she snapped, 'a princess does _not_ cook, that's for the urchins who are on my staff.'_

_ 'But—'_

_ 'No, we are done talking about this. Get Violet to throw this rubbish away.' She left with her red robes flowing behind her._

_ The girl looked down, her heart felt like it had just been run over by a carriage and then trampled on by a horse._

_ Violet came up behind her, wrapped her arms caringly around her stomach, brought her close, and hugged her silently. Her ears caught the sound of the child sniffling, and she felt a warm tear drop onto her hand, which made her hold the girl tighter._

_ With a squeak, the little girl spoke up, 'Why doesn't she love me? What have I done to make her disapprove of me so?' She turned around in Violet's arms and buried her tear-stained face in her shoulder, 'Why aren't I enough?'_

_ Violet's heart nearly broke hearing these words come out of this dear child's mouth. 'Oh, sweetheart! Of course you're enough. Of course you are. Don't ever question a mother's love.'_

_ She pulled away. 'Love? Love?! She doesn't love me! No matter how much love I show to her…she always finds a way to crush it and throw it back in my face like useless trash.' She looked into Violet's emerald green eyes. 'But you love me…you understand me…you…you are my one and only friend…' Her eyes had something new to them, something intimate._

_ What was this feeling…so sudden and new?\\_


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you sure about this?" asked the town's therapist.

"Very. It's not normal for a child not to love his mother….not if they don't have a good reason anyway," Madame Mayor replied sharply.

"But, Madame Mayor, I'm sure Henry adores you. Maybe you're being a little too strict with him?"

"Are you criticizing how I raise _my_ son?" She gave him a deathly glare that would cause milk to curdle.

"No, no, no, no, of course not." He pushed his glasses up. "But, every child has a certain wiring…uh….um…a certain way that they think and learn and express themselves. Usually they have a special place they go to where they can let their thoughts out privately. Whether in a journal, talking out loud to someone, usually themselves, or an imaginary friend."

"Imaginary friend? My son has no such thing. I've told him that imagination is nonsense and should never be taken seriously."

The therapist's brow rose in surprise. "No imagination? Oh my…that's….terrible."

She quirked her brow as if using it as a threat. "Explain."

"A child's imagination is the most important thing in the world. It gives them hope. How can you not encourage him to use it?"

"Because we live in reality; anything less is a distraction. Imagination is an alternative reality for people to escape their own crummy lives. I don't want Henry to get his hopes up for something that can only be found in Fairytales. He needs to accept reality for what it is: A back-stabbing, heart-breaking, lousy, disappointing, depressing Hell where there are _no_ happy endings." She took a moment to register his reaction.

He blinked in disbelief, saying nothing, for there was nothing to say. This reaction pleased the Mayor. She sat back with a satisfied smirk. "Need I say more?"

"I…uh…"

"Didn't think so," she stood up with regal poise. "We're done here. Henry is going to be taking sessions with you, and that's final. Nice talking with you, Archie. Have a good day." She left with a victorious grin.

_/ The little girl could not get over the feeling that overcame her the day before. What made her want to look deep into those perfect pools of green? Make her eyes gaze downward to those perfect rosy-glossed lips? How could she even comprehend this feeling when she was only ten and the maiden thirteen? Whatever it was, however she deciphered it, she knew it made her smile like crazy._

_ 'And just what are you so happy about?' came the crisp voice of her mother._

_ She swallowed her feelings of happiness, allowing only a subtle fear be present as she turned to face her. 'What do you mean?'_

_ 'Oh, don't act like you weren't giddy like a gnome just seconds ago.' The Queen took a step forward, holding up her hand – which shimmered lavender – and grasped the air tightly._

_ The girl yelped as she was lifted up, struggling in the tight grip her mother had on her. 'Mother, please! You know I don't like it when you use magic on me!'_

_ 'And you know I don't like to be lied to.'_

_ 'Mama…' the girl's eyes pleaded._

_ 'What do you say?' she cooed with a mocking smirk._

_ The girl bit her lip, hiding her want to cry. 'Mama….don't.' Her resistance caused her to be squeezed more. 'Mama,' she squeaked, 'I'll be good.'_

_ The Queen closed her eyes, absorbing the sweet, submissive words. 'That's all I ask,' she said as she lowered her daughter, releasing her grip. \\_

(2 years later)

Ginger was putting the faces on the gingerbread men she had made when she heard the door slam, followed by an angry growl. It was Henry. She put down the icing, cleaned her hands off with a dish towel, and headed upstairs to his room.

"What's gotten you in such a bad mood?" she smirked.

"It's my mom," Henry groaned.

"What about her?"

"She thinks I'm crazy."

"I'm sure she doesn't."

"She does!"

"Henry, come on—" Ginger ventured.

"No Ginger," he snapped, cutting her off, "not this time. You may not realize it, but my mom is…is…evil."

"Henry—"

"Shh! I'm not finished. She's evil; I firmly believe that now. She gets into people's heads, like…brainwashing them or something. Even you! Look, my teacher gave me this book," he said, taking it out. It had a brown leather cover with a title in Medieval font: Once Upon A Time. A book of Fairytales.

"It's just a fairytale book, Henry. None of them are true," Ginger said.

"Yes they are! Every one of these characters is someone here in Storybrooke. My mom, she's the Evil Queen. Archie, he's Jiminy Cricket. My teacher, Ms. Blanchard, she's Snow White."

Ginger shook her head. What a wild imagination this boy had. Though, she did wonder if what he said was true. Madame Mayor _did_ seem like the Evil Queen. The regal way she walked; the apple tree in her yard; the way she controlled the people in town. But that was crazy. Fairytales were just stories. "Henry…" she sighed.

"You don't believe me …do you?" Henry said.

"How can I? It doesn't make sense."

"That's the curse talking." He was desperate to keep Ginger on his side.

"What curse?" She quirked a brow.

"The curse that the Evil Queen put on all of the Fairytale characters in Fairytale Land. It brought them here to Storybrooke, and they forgot who they were." He pointed to the clock tower. "See that? The clock is stopped because time is frozen here. I'm _not _crazy."

"Henry, how am I supposed to believe what you say," she began, choosing her words carefully, "if I haven't read the story? Hm?"

He smiled, his eyes glistened with hope. "I knew you were on my side."


End file.
